


the shield for the sword

by summoner_yuna_of_besaid



Category: Dishonored (Video Games)
Genre: Character Study, Comedy, Gen, introspective
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-03
Updated: 2019-02-03
Packaged: 2019-10-21 22:19:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17650955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/summoner_yuna_of_besaid/pseuds/summoner_yuna_of_besaid
Summary: When I play Dishonored, I'm not very good at it.  I make a lot of dumb mistakes.  So, I thought, what if Corvo Attano was actually pretty bad at being an assassin?He spent his whole life as a shield to others.  Switching to being a sneak thief cutting throats in the dark is a big change.In which Corvo makes a lot of dumb, stupid mistakes, but manages to save the day anyway.





	the shield for the sword

Six months.That long it had taken him to get here, to survive, to escape, to struggle and suffer beneath the weight of his guilt and sorrow. Six months of torment and bleeding and rotten food eaten with his grimy hands, and he had made it here.Made it with little whispers of _just a little further, just a little more_ , each time his foot slipped or his strength wavered or for just a moment his tongue considered talking. _Just a little further, and you’ll have peace.Just a little more, and you’ll have rest._

And here he was, standing in the Hound Pits, having said a little more, a little further, and he finally came to believe that more and further had arrived. 

“Your room is this way sir,” The maid said, and he gladly followed, ever eager for a respite from the hell of the waking world.Then she led him to the bottom of four flights of stairs.

His stomach fell to his feet – his aching, blistered feet.And then he laughed.He laughed and it hurt, pricks of pain like lightning shooting across his chest.He gripped his hand to a wound low on his gut, a bruised edged with dripping cuts, and he laughed.Because he had made it here, made it all this way with a little more, a little further, only to have finally run out before a flight of stairs.

She asked him if he was alright, concern clear in her eyes.The mad man from prison looked madder still, now.He shrugged her off, hardly caring.Laughter bubbled out of his raspy throat in waves as he slowly, ever so slowly, fell down against the bottom stair.Tears stung his eyes.He ached in ways he never knew he could, as if all the pain of six months had suddenly fallen upon him in full force.He hadn’t quite felt it, before.Before, there had been something to fight for, something to focus on, a little more, a little further.

There’s nothing, now.

Missions, revenge, fighting for the empire, those are later concerns.Rest was all that mattered then and the lack of a purpose drained the life from him.The adrenaline keeping it all at bay came crashing down.So Corvo Attano came to collapse upon the bottom step, his whole frame shaking head to bloody foot.He needed help.They offered it, but he denied them, though he needed help so badly.

Little did he know, as he fell back against the railing, already half asleep, that help was about to come his way.

 

* * *

 

Corvo was not what one might consider a pious man.

A religious man, surely.He knew the scriptures as well as the next man.He’d been taught the ways of the Everyman.Outsider bad, Abbey good, that was the gist of it, so he supposed.

Anything more was superfluous and mattered little to him.If it didn’t protect or aid the Empress, it was irrelevant.She had views of her own, he supposed, though she rarely expressed them.It was all too dangerous for an Empress to have radical views, though she had plenty of them.She kept them as close to her chest as she could, save for when it came to policies to help her people.

( _And still they killed her_ )

But Corvo, who’d never felt the pull of faith upon his heart the way it seemed others did, finally felt he understood the Overseers and their fanaticism.He understood the moment his gaze set upon the onyx abyss of the Outsider’s eyes.

He awoke with a mark upon his hand – the left, his weaker side, the side closest to his heart.For a moment Corvo simply stared at the burning tattoo as if it could not exist, as if he were within a dream within a dream.But it didn’t fade, no matter how much time passed, and eventually he came to accept that a God had in fact appeared before him, chosen him, somehow.

Corvo did not see much worth in himself, in his life.(Any worth he once had was long ripped away, with everything else.)It was hard to fathom a God finding him interesting.He put it down to the mission, the circumstances in which he stood, as the drawing factor.Nothing else made sense.

He became used to it, though. Accustomed to the aching chill in the bones of his left hand, as he was the gnarling pain of his entire body.Six months of torture left its mark.He would never quite heal, and he would always feel the hurt.It did not help that he escaped and barely had time for rest; there was no time.The Empire needed him.Emily needed him.

 

* * *

 

Corvo stood at the end of an alleyway, two patrolling guards between himself and his destination.Above, there was a balcony, a little ways off, on the right side.Corvo eyed all this and made his plan.It was easy – use the new nifty power of his to get above and then over them. 

Corvo pointed his hand, tongue pressed between his teeth – and fired his pistol.

Eyes shot open wide.He’d forgotten in his foolish haste it was in his hand.And after all, why not, it wasn’t like he’d spent his whole life using these strange powers.Pointing and shooting a gun felt natural, and so he hadn’t reacted upon lifting it.It was only when the bullet shot off suddenly that he flinched, catching his mistake just as the two guards turned and drew their swords.

Shoving his gun away, Corvo gave it a second attempt.But it was much too hurried – he took aimed, let the power flow through him, a strange tickling sensation like a dog licking his feet – and the next moment, he was in the air.

Only, he was two feet to the left of the balcony. 

He fell from the air, landing on the stunned guard who’d just watched him disappear.The man’s buddy spun round, sword drawn, and gave a shocked cry at his appearance.Somewhat taken aback himself, Corvo leapt to his feet, in a panic, and took off.

He ran into three more guards, growing more panicked as he did, before he accidentally fell off of a railing he was attempting to climb and fell into a river.

 

* * *

 

They wanted to make Corvo an assassin.The very word put a bad taste in his mouth and a sneer on his face.

He understood the need for killing.He’d seen it done, though he’d never killed himself.Sometimes it was eat or be eaten, he simply preferred it never get to that point.He wasn’t a soldier, wasn’t even a knight – he was the High Protector.The Empress’s chosen bodyguard.

Protect.That was his duty.He drew his sword to save lives, not take them.He stood out in the light, in front of his charges, gladly drawing attention to keep it away from them.There was no lurking in the shadows or skulking about on rooftops.(He was rather large for lurking in shadows, and the roofs were slippery.He fell off.)

No, Corvo was no assassin.He understood the need for what was being done by the Loyalists, and he would help them do it.But he wouldn’t kill for it unless he had to.

(Unless it was for Emily.)

 

* * *

 

Corvo clung to the outside of the Golden Cat, caught sight of an open window, and smirked to himself.He was eager to see Emily again, more than eager, ecstatic to see her alive and well.Grinning, he climbed through the window and fell gently on his feet.Only to look up and see a patron and a courtesan half dressed and entangled in one another, and staring at him.

He stared back.“… hello.”Corvo gave a weak wave.“Fancy a third?”

Their screams brought the guards, and Corvo ran through half a dozen rooms of naked people, jumped a railing, broke a very fancy vase, and bolted out the front door.He didn’t stop running until he dove into the harbor – and he didn’t stop blushing until two days later.

 

* * *

 

He was not an assassin, and he was certainly no sneak.

His training was closer to that of a guardsman, not a roguish character, and he had no skill with the crossbow and other distance weapons.Though he appreciated the sleeper darts – they were a great boon given how his Outsider-given powers did not, unfortunately, include long distance choking – more often than not he ended up striking the street lamp next to his target and alerting the whole street to his presence. 

(There was one memorable time he was trying to knock out a guard from behind, only to have approached from too much of an angle.The man spun round and Corvo, panicked, reached for his crossbow.He shot the man close range with the sleeper darts – it struck him.In the dangly bits.He felt really bad about that one.)

Honestly, Corvo wasn’t sure where the mystical talk of his doings in the city were coming from.He thought perhaps the Loyalists were drumming it up, for their own purposes.It also could’ve been Emily, enamored with the idea of her Corvo as some pirate or thief type.Mostly, he wondered if it wasn’t some large-scale induced dream they were all having, a romantic vision of the tormented hero taking down an entire corrupt city with struggle or fail.The Outsider might’ve pulled such a trick, wouldn’t he?

 

* * *

 

There are four guards below him.A wall of light to his right.He's going to have to get past it to make it to the target, and while there's a route through the lower levels of the city, it's crawling with weepers and gangsters.So, the rooftops will have to do. 

Looks like he has no choice.

'I'm here,' He thinks, focusing.'I'm here, I want to be there.Easy.Here, there.'With a huff, he moves into a runner's stance, falling back on instinct to feel comfortable.It's just like jumping the gap, only... with less jumping.

One breath, he leans forward, and back, another breath, he moves again, and – he leaps for the edge, looks dead on at the location he wants to reach, and pulls upon the power in his hand.An electric current floods his veins and at the same moment he feels suffocated, drowned beneath a heady weight of power he can't possibly comprehend.Then it's gone, and he's moved through the air without moving, gone from 'here' to 'there'.

Only 'there' isn't quite far enough.

_ Not again! _

There's three feet between him and the building, and the drop is totally air – plus an open window, and a rocky outcropping, and a wooden overhang – and he grunts and groans with each hit.It's a hard fall to the bottom, and something definitely twists inside him, but all in all he feels better than he certainly would have before.

He missed.

Groaning, Corvo lets his head hit the ground with a dull clank.But only for a second.Because, his luck being what it is, he's managed to fall into the weeper's territory, so he has to get up and start running now.

 

* * *

 

 

The most useful thing is the eyes.

If he focuses really hard, like he's trying to see something far off, his gaze drifts into a strange dark focus, where he can see the killing, violent intent in others.It's handy for avoiding danger and guards, no so much for avoiding anything else.The world around him becomes a dark blur.Many a time he's been kept safe from an approaching Overseer, only to trip on a rock right under his foot.

So, no more walking with the Eyes thing.Rule #1.

 

* * *

 

 

Get in, dispose of Overseer Thaddeus Campbell, save Captain Curnow, get out.

Easier said than done.

Huffing for breath, Corvo hangs upon the outer ledge of the building, hidden behind a bright spotlight, just out of sight.He can still hear the guards puttering around inside, but they haven't bothered looking for him out here.

In a few minutes it'll quiet down, and he can try again.Ugh, this is so frustrating!What he wouldn't give for an honest duel between soldiers.Not that Campbell would ever play fair.The man had tried to get him executed after all.

Grumbling to himself, Corvo inches to the window, glancing inside.No one's present, for the moment.He slips in, ducking down, hiding behind a thin decorative wall just in front of the hallway.Down the hall he can hear a guard whistling, and further off, Campbell talking to Curnow, almost certainly. 

He's got to figure out a way to make this work.Yes, running in and killing Campbell would be easy – but.Curnow will be there, and he'd rather not end up fighting the man.He doesn't want to be in a possible life or death scenario where Curnow stands between him and escape.So, the best thing to do is eliminate Campbell without violence.

Yeah, part of him wants to bust in and just knife the man in the heart.But he can't do it.Curnow's the reason, but there's still a part of him that's relieved.He's meant to be an assassin now, but it's not a title that sits comfortably on his shoulders.

Deep breath in.Corvo flips out his tranquilizer.There's a stairwell ahead; he needs to get the lay of the land, figure something out.That direction will do.So, he cautiously glances out, before slipping through the hall and to the stairwell door. 

There's a guard there.Examining a painting, his back to Corvo.The man smirks.Too easy.Pushing the door open slightly, he leans forward, slipping his crossbow through the gap, and – THWICK.It hits him in the back of the neck.The man jolts, slapping a hand to his head, before turning and stumbling drunkenly towards the door.

Panic hits him.Are the darts strong enough?Maybe Piero's concoction isn't working.His finger pulls the trigger before he's even conscious of it – and another dart hits the Overseer, right in the neck.Ouch.Corvo winces, but can't feel too regretful as the man finally grows really sluggish.He stumbles a bit, back and forth, before...

Oh no.

He forgot about the stairs.The stairs which the Overseer stumbles towards, slumping to his knees, and then falling upon his torso, which slips over the first stair.From there it's a slow headfirst slid down to the landing, and every thud and bump of the man's head has Corvo wincing.

THUD. THUD. THUD.…THUD.

Dead silence.Except for the frantic beating of his heart.He cannot _believe_.Cannot believe he did that.How amateurish.Assassin or not he is trained to examine and take advantage of his surroundings – how could he not have noticed?Corvo shakes his head, sliding through the door and down to the unconscious man.He's let all this stress and this business with the Outsider shake him.He's losing his edge.

Gripping the man under his shoulders, he carefully hauls him up, dragging him back to the hidden alcove with the window.The man's heavy, and he's still trying to kneel close to the ground, and the mask makes it hard to see in his peripherals – that's his excuse for why he doesn't see the two Overseers approaching when he duckwalks backwards out of the stairwell, dragging an unconscious man with two darts sticking out of his throat.

Everyone freezes.Then chaos explodes – again – as Corvo drops the body and blinks.He barely even thinks about it – he just knows he needs to be anywhere but here and he's gone, in a flash.Surprisingly he ends up in a rather decent location, up above the chaos on the rafters running through the building.Maybe that's the secret to this – simply trusting instinct.Somehow Corvo doesn't think he'll be this lucky next time.

Crawling along, he heads for the sound of the High Overseer's voice.The stairwell didn't pan out – well, this path puts him over a dining area, with a tray of drinks.Calista's words come to him and he recognizes what the drinks are meant for almost instantly. 

It's too late, though.The doors are pushed open, and Campbell and Curnow walk in side by side.Corvo curses under his breath.Mind racing, he watches as they approach the table, knowing he has so little time.He could cause a disruption, distract them from the table for a moment – oh, no, the drink's in Curnow's hands, the idiot, he's about to -

Again, it's just instinct.He thinks it, and he's there, and suddenly he goes from the rafters to just awkwardly standing between Curnow and the High Overseer, like it's nothing at all.

They are both gaping openly at him.Corvo can only stand there, stunned beyond belief at his sheer awful luck, so very happy no one can see his face and the reddened shame upon his cheeks.

Still, he manages a husky, “Don't drink that.”And with all the grace of a petulant cat, smacks the poisoned drink out of Curnow's hand.

That's what shatters the peace and erupts the room into chaos, and all in all it's a fitting end to what has been an awful clusterfuck of a day.

 


End file.
